


Dead by Daybreak

by berriesandchampange



Category: PAYDAY (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Gen, Hoxton!daughter, this is really cringy I know and I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:37:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berriesandchampange/pseuds/berriesandchampange
Summary: 14 years old, orphaned and abandoned, Anastasia seeks the comfort of a father. Unfortunately, Hoxton can't seem to comprehend his roles as a parent, so both must overcome challenges to finally feel like a family.





	1. Chapter 1

The stray rocks that littered the deserted highway dug into the bare soles of her feet. She had ditched her worn out sneakers a few miles back, as the soles had been worn through entirely and had not provided any more protection than naked feet. 

Whatever, she thought. She preferred the stealth of bare feet anyway. 

The scrub land that bordered the road had thinned out significantly, compared to the miles of dense brambles she had already passed. She knew she was coming to the meeting point.   
Brown eyes scanned the horizon for any signs of life. There was nothing - nobody, save for the swaying scrubs and empty road.   
Her wandering gaze landed upon a street sign. Orange, striped with black, duct taped to the pole. 

Where was he? He said he’d meet here, dusk. And yet, while the last pink streaked clouds drifted across the far-off hills, there was not even a distant car on the lengthy road. The sky was growing dark, and she had to make a decision - stay, and keep the possibility that he was just late (highly unlikely, if anyone was more punctual than him, she’d be scared to meet them.); or, leave, and give up her only chance to find the final puzzle piece, connect the last dot. It seemed as if her whole life had come down to this point, every experience filing down to this point. She sighed heavily and weighed up her choices.

As she gazed absentmindedly at the scrub lands, fluttering at the base of the ram shack sign caught her eye. A note! So he had not in fact left her here, and broken the deal that had nearly cost her her life. Trembling fingers hastily unwrapped the folded paper. She was nervous, more than she thought she would have been, for something as small as this.   
She was almost glad the man had not shown up to give her the note himself, lest he see the state she was in. Dark hair falling in tangles down her back, feet red and raw from walking. Her face was clean, but worn with exhaustion; violet seeping through under her eyes.   
She took a deep breath, a futile attempt to calm her nerves before quivering fingers unfolded the precious paper. Another smaller envelope dropped from the note, and her eyes quickly scanned the page. 

T,  
sorry I couldn’t make it in person. The requested information is encased below. Good doing business with you.  
Sincerely, E.

She snorted as she read it. All this trouble for three and a bit sentences. At least the little envelope she clutched in her hand wouldn’t let her down - she hoped. She tucked the package inside her satchel and turned towards the darkening sky. The air was cool on her sweat beaded face. She was glad for the thin jacket that wrapped around her shoulders; it would be a long walk home.

\---

Standing in the dusty building, she pulled out her cellphone. It was a fairly new model, borrowed from the pockets of a well dressed man who had stood in the line for the cashier before her on a weekly grocery run. He had enough to buy another anyway, judging from the wads of cash she had found littering his suit pockets. She almost couldn’t wait to test the information she had gathered, and it had taken all her self restraint to wait until she was alone in the deserted apartment complex she had been holing up in for the past few months. She didn’t want to risk anybody else catching snippets of her conversation. There was a certain facade she had to uphold, and hearing her get as emotional as she was about a phone call would surely land her no place in the lives of her accomplices. Unlocking the phone, her fingers nimbly pressed the numbers she had all but memorized form staring at the contents of the envelope. 

R-R-Ring. 

R-R-Ring. 

She clasped the phone tighter to her ear. “Pick up, pick up, please pick up…” She mumbled, eyes squeezed shut. 

R-R-Ring.

R-R-Ring. 

This number is not available to take your call. Please leave a m- 

She cut the electronic voice off with a press of her fingers.   
Inhale - exhale. Breathing deeply, she typed in the number again. One more try couldn’t hurt, right? 

R-R-Ring. 

R-R-Ring. 

-Click- “Hello?” 

Her eyes snapped wide in surprise. He picked up! One hand covered her mouth in shock. She had been ready to give up when she had heard the first voicemail.

“Hello, is anybody there?”

“H-Hi” She stuttered out, barely breathing. “Is this… Hoxton?”

“Who the fuck is this; and how did you get my personal number?!” He bellowed into the phone, so loud that on the other end she had to pull the phone away from her ears. “Wolf if this is another ‘prank’ I swear to god I’m gonna-”

“No! This isn’t a prank! And I’m not… Wolf?” She interrupted him “Hoxton, I have a lot to tell you. Can we meet up sometime?”

The man - Hoxton - snorted into the receiver. “Yeah right I’m gonna just go with some rando and get jumped by feds, no thank you.” She could hear him prepare to end the call.

“Wait! Jim- Hoxton… It’s me!, Anastasia.”

The silence that filled the line was thick with tension. She pursed her lips in prayer, body tense and knuckles white, clasping the phone. 

“Cloudstone mall, 12pm. Don’t be late.” A gruff voice barked down the line before swiftly ending the call. The girl rubbed her tear-filled eyes in disbelief. She couldn't stop the grin spreading across her face, and and clasped her fists in victory. Yes! Yes! She checked the clock on her phone. 10:39 am, it read. She blinked her eyes as if waking from a dream. Only one and a half hours, one and a half hours before her life would change drastically - for better or for worse she had no clue.

\---

 

  
Anxious eyes scanned the food court. It was 11:58, on the dot. They should be here by now… Anastasia clasped her satchel bag closer to her torso and rounded the corner. There - sitting one leg crossed over the other in a position of faux laid back-ness, sat Hoxton. She could recognize him easily from the head shots she had looked over seemingly a million times in her desperate attempts to locate him. His eyes seemed to stare into the distance behind her, but she knew he was being watchful, waiting for her to make the first move. She slid into the seat opposite him. 

“Anastasia” she stuck out her hand for a handshake. He only turned his head a minuscule amount stared at it in disgust. 

“Hoxton.” He replied, watching her hand lower awkwardly. “What do you want?” He stated bluntly, staring her directly in the eyes. “Money?” 

“No! That’s not what I want, I-I don’t need money, I just…” It seemed so hard to say now, she had not planned their first real conversation to go like this. She had expected smiles and hugs, or at least a handshake. You shouldn’t have been surprised, anyway, she reprimanded herself, you know what he does for a living.

“Well? Spit it out!” He commanded eyes locked on her downcast face.

“I want… I wanted… I wanted to find my father.” She look down in shame. She knew how that must sound to him. Way to be a fucking Marie-sue cutsie-pie baby. The words just didn’t come out right, now he was real in front of her. She had rehearsed this conversation a million times, she had a million reasons to fight for this, she just felt so overwhelmed - so taken aback by his forceful nature.

He took a moment to chuckle dryly. “Well, fairy-princess, your happy ending isn’t here. I’m no fucking daddy to anybody. How old are you anyway? 10?”

“14.” She interjected with a glare.

“Whatever. You’re old enough to know what I mean, and since you found my cell phone number, I’m guessing you already know. I’m no normal office worker, sweetie,” his voice dripped with contempt. “I’m a fucking criminal. I rob places.” He gestured to the jewelry store the were seated in front of. “I hurt people. I kill people. Innocent people. I’m bad” He had leaned in across the tabletop, hissing his words right in her face. “I may have had sex with your mother, but I’m no fucking father.” He spat. Anastasia leaned away from his foaming lips and the spray of spittle.   
“You and your mother, you must be living comfy, eh? I suggest you go run-run-running back to mommy, fairy-princess-happy-ending, go back to your safe little life, go back to your happy little bubble, go back, GO!” He was almost shouting now, and had gathered the attention of many a passerby. He could feel their stares on his neck and knew it was time to leave. “Nice meeting you, fairy-princess.” He gave one last vicious snarl before bee-lining towards the backdoor of the jewelry store. He didn’t want to have to push through all the onlookers that blocked the main entrance way, and stupid jewelry stores never kept back doors locked very securely anyway.   
Anastasia was left frozen in shock at her table. This was not what she had expected. 

As Hoxton opened the backdoor of the jewelry store, he rushed into a familiar sight. Three figures sat crouched behind the door, all adorned with bags, ammo, and guns, and all wearing three very familiar clown masks. 

“Hox?” Spoke the leader of the gang, lowering his gun in surprise. The other two seemed just as baffled as him, sharing looks of disbelief. “Who knew, when you went sneaky-sneaking out of the safehouse it was for a little shopping spree at Cloudstone mall!” He was quick to cut to the chase. “How would you feel helping out with a quick smash-and-grab? In and out, fast and loud, you hear?” He rummaged through one of his satchels. “Here,” He tossed a small rolled up bundle into Hox's hands. “Don’t have your mask, but we do have this. Not ideal, but still.”. Hoxton wasted no time in wrapping the bandages around the lower half of his face, glaring at the crew the whole time. Really? Here of all places? Wolf passed him a pistol and some spare ammo.   
“I hate you all.” He muttered begrudgingly before following Dallas into the store. 

Anastasia sat slumped over the abandoned table. She was mulling over the series of events that had lead her here, when loud gunshots broke her train of thought. Two men stood in the jewelry store, holding guns, one in a mask that had the American flag sprawled across it, the other with strange blue lines crossing the eyes, both a gruesome imitation of clowns. “Everybody, on the ground!” Called American flag, firing a few more shots into the high ceilings. Terrified screams rang out around her, and she knew she had to act fast. Both men were preoccupied with zip tying the hands of the customers of the jewelry store, giving her the chance to duck behind a marble pillar. Her breath hitched in her throat as she made a frantic dash to safety. She peeked out to check the coast was clear before dashing behind an ornate bench and the surrounding plastic shrubbery. Had they looked up, and noticed she had disappeared?

“You, over there!” called blue lines man. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, terrified of being spotted. 

“You, in the pink, get down!” He called, and she barely peeked at her drab outfit to know he was not talking to her. Feeling a little guilty, she - as quietly as possible - let out a breath of relief. 

“Dallas, feds!” the voice of the blue lines man rang out again. From where she was hidden, she could hear the exchange of gunfire, and spotted an officer crouch on the other side of her hiding spot. He was firing non stop at the clown mask men, although his shots didn't seem to be making any impact. She was just about to call out to him when a bullet whizzed through the air, and jolted into his abdomen, leaving bloody splatter on the white marble floor. She clasped her previously outstretched hand to her mouth to muffle a choked sob. Her eyes were glued to the corpse, when she saw his gun, which had flopped out of his hand close to the pillar she had hidden behind before. Seizing the opportunity, she dashed towards the pillar, bending down to snatch the pistol up as she went. She dared a quick glance out from behind safety, and saw the men were occupied with police swarming through the entrance way. Good. Now’s my chance. She aimed the pistol at the back of blue lines man. 

Bang!

The bullet whizzed through the air before burying itself deep into the right shoulder of the man. Not quite what she was aiming for, but arguably better. From what she could tell that had been the hand that had held his gun. She could hear his grunts of pain from where she hid, and heard the clatter of his gun dropping from his hand to the ground. Both men turned to look in her direction, and she barely whipped her head back around the pillar in time. 

“Fuck! Chains, man” American flag cursed. 

Anastasia moved methodically and in an almost rehearsed manner, ducking out of her hiding place back towards the bench, firing a shot as she went. 

Crack! 

The bullet lodged itself into the wall near the men. Dammit! She knew both pairs of eyes were near her now, and she couldn’t risk another peek. 

“Oi you, fucking coward fed, get out here and fight!” Called one of the men. 

She dropped lower into the bushes, hearing a pair of footsteps beginning towards her. She bared her teeth and shut her eyes in anticipation.

“Drill’s done” Called a new voice, and the footsteps halted. 

“Wolf you stay there. Bag up the cash. You, go and investigate this fucker. I’ll take care of Chains.” American flag man directed. 

Wolf? Where had she heard that name before?

A new, lighter set of footsteps broke her train of thoughts as the mystery person made their way towards her hiding spot.


	2. Chapter 2

Anastasia pushed her body closer to the floor until she was spread across the floor, chest pushing into the marble, wishing she could just sink through it and disappear. The footsteps stopped at the dead body of the cop, and she heard a sniff of disgust. 

Please leave… 

No such luck. The man tromped his way to the edge of the bushes she was sprawled behind. Raising her head ever so slightly, she caught the man's hard gaze through the bandages that surrounded his face. A look of utter shock covered her face. 

“Hoxton?” 

He raised a finger to his lips to shush her, even though he knew it was too late. The rest of the crew would know he’d seen something and would come over to investigate before too long. 

“Hox? What’s going on over there?” Dallas, the man in the flag mask called. 

Thinking on her feet, Anastasia took her chance while the bandage-wrapped man was distracted. She took her gun, leaping up and swinging the butt of the pistol straight into his jaw. He crumpled in shock for a few seconds, giving her the moment of surprise she needed to get away. She ran, zigzagging towards the nearest exit, but the click of a gun made her blood run cold. One of the men in the jewelry store had readied their gun, aimed, and 

Bang! 

A bullet raced straight towards her heart. She did the only thing she could think of, ducking as fast as she could at the sound of the gun, but she wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t faster than a freaking bullet. It hit her in her left shoulder, knocking her forwards into a stumble. Her vision spun a bit but she wobbled forwards until she had regained her balance and readied to try to run again; if it hadn’t been for the heavy weight of Hoxton; who had regained his senses and tackled her to the ground. Anastasia lay panting, squashed by his weight, she wriggled with all her might, but he wasn’t budging. Dallas’ jogging footsteps made their way towards the two. Hoxton silently grabbed her arms and zip tied them with a brutal force. Dallas stopped next to them, looking between man and girl. 

“The fuck, Hoxton? How in hell’d she know your name?” 

Hoxton just sighed and clenched his bruising jaw. Dallas had spent plenty of time with the heister, and had learned to pick up on subtle hints like this. He was curious, to say the least, but he knew when to stop, and instead of querying Hoxton further about the girl he just let it drop. 

“Drill’s done. Let’s bag it up and go before reinforcements arrive.” 

He stopped to eye up the girl again. 

“Do we need to take her with us?”

Hoxton looked at her as well. There was no hiding the fact they knew each other now. Information would leak, and she’d be under fire. Maybe her mother too. Maybe he could keep both of them safe for just a little longer, keep the whole father-daughter thing secret a while. He knew, deep in his heart, though, that secrets could never be kept long in this life.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

\---

The ride back to the safehouse was terse, to say the least. Anastasia could see the crew’s sneaking glances towards her, trying to figure out who she was and what she wanted. 

Not to mention the zip ties.

It was difficult to keep her balance in the veering escape van, and without her hands to buffer her she kept bumping into Hoxton, who would stare at the van doors, either not noticing her or, more likely, just pretending. 

As they she caught them, time and time again, watching her in her peripheral vision, she almost felt the need to speak, to tell them who she was, but it wasn’t place, nor was she sure Hoxton would have wanted her to say anything. Dallas changed the bandage on the man they called Chains’ shoulder, and she stared at the floor guiltily. She hadn’t known it was her dad’s gang robbing the store. Then again, would she really have done anything different if she had known? She had, after all, gave Hoxton a big thump with her gun, even after she’d known it was him. She looked guiltily at his jaw, which bloomed with black and green. He tensed his jaw, and she knew he’d noticed her looking at him. She looked back down at the ground, leaning her back into a bag of sharp jewelry. There was no getting out of this one.

\---

As soon as they arrived at the safehouse, Hoxton grabbed her elbow and forcefully led her through the doors of an abandoned laundromat, through a tunnel, up another set of stairs, and into a closed off room on the top floor. 

“Listen up, okay,” He turned to her, pointing a finger in her face. 

“We’ve got a few minutes before the others finish unloading the bags and start eavesdropping the fuck out of our conversation. So let’s get things straight. To them, you are an acquaintance who saved my life before I had joined the gang, got it? We can talk about the father shit when we’ve got time, and privacy,”

He eyed the doors, checking for the shadows of waiting feet under the gap between the frame and the floor. 

“Have you got a pseudonym? One that’s untraceable to your real name?” 

“Tasha May, Tash for short.”

He looked amused. 

“It’ll do. You never knew your father okay? One night stand, up and left, gone.” 

“It’s beginning to sound a lot like the truth, isn’t it?” She challenged staring him in the eye. 

He reared his head like an angry bull. 

“Is that what you think? That I just up and left your mother of my own accord? Is that how fuckin’ shallow the two of you have become? I left to save your lives, and now you’ve gone and put that in jeopardy.” He stopped when he heard voices entering the main living space. 

“We’ll talk later.” 

He pulled a knife from his belt pointing it towards her. She jumped back in surprise, readying her hands as well as she could with the zip tie. She wasn’t aware of the table behind her and bumped into it, sending a pen clattering to the ground. Hoxton rolled his eyes in amusement. 

“Easy up. Give me your hands.”

She blushed, embarrassed, as she lifted her wrists to him and allowed him to saw free her bonds. 

“Remember what I said okay?” He said sternly, before turning and walking through the door. 

Tasha rubbed her raw wrists and flexed her hands. It was good to be free again. She bent down to pick up the pen from where it rolled under the desk. As she reached for it, a battered cardboard box caught her eye. It had been taped up in places where the cardboard had torn, and had clearly been opened and closed numerous times. She retrieved the pen and replaced it on the desk. As curious as she was, it wasn’t her place to go snooping through his things, even when she had the chance. 

As she left the room, she ran into a man she recognized from the van ride, yet had no idea of their name. 

“Uhm.. hi.” She stammered, taking a quick step backwards away from the looming man. 

There was no reply from the man. He kept looking at her face and then glancing away nervously. 

“You have… uhm…” He gestured to his face, his hands awkward and jittery. 

She rubbed her hand along her cheek, and held it out to see. Sure enough, dark, sticky blood covered her palm. She hadn’t even been aware. It must have happened when the police officer got shot, or maybe she’d gotten a nosebleed when she was tackled. Or both. Eek. No wonder they had been looking at her weirdly in the van. 

“Thanks…” She trailed off, uncertain of his name. 

“Yeah.” He mumbled, not catching her hint. 

After an awkward moment of stillness they both headed in opposite directions along the hallway. That was weird, she thought to herself. I wonder if that’s how it’s going to be with the rest of them? 

After a few wrong turns, she found the bathroom. Hoxton hadn’t told her where anything was, and the place was sort of a maze. Luckily, though she hadn’t run into anyone on her detour, although she had heard mumbling and the sound of gunshots from one of the rooms. Probably best she didn’t go in there. 

The bathroom was surprisingly clean and well organised. Not bad for a lair full of criminals. Anastasia turned to face the mirror that sat atop a spotless white basin. 

Wow. 

She knew she’d looked bad, but not this bad. She had attempted to comb through her hair before meeting Hoxton, but her efforts had been undone, as a matted clump of hair stuck to her face. 

And, oh, her face! 

Blood was smeared across her left cheek, and a bruise was starting to show on her right cheekbone from where her face had been pushed into the ground. She had a cut on her lip which slowly oozed blood, it looked painful but she hadn’t even known it’d existed before now. Her wrists were rubbed raw from the zip ties, and when she lifted up her shirt there was a trail of blackening marks down her rib cage. She touched them gingerly, and winced when she felt the tingle of pain that rippled from her touch. 

She dropped her shirt back and turned on the tap. There were a couple of towels hanging on a towel rack next to the basin, but she didn’t want to muddy them with blood and whatever grime still clung to her face. 

Combing through her hair with her fingers, Anastasia readied herself for the oncoming onslaught of questioning that was undoubtedly about to occur.


	3. Chapter 3

A knock on the door startled her, and she turned off the running tap before swinging open the door. Chains stood before her, eyeing her dripping hands. 

“I see you found the bathroom okay.” 

She nodded, unsure of what to say. Not an hour earlier she had been shooting at this man as he robbed a jewelry store. 

“Hey, I’m, uhm, sorry about your shoulder.” She offered him a forced smile. 

“It’s nothing. I’ve had worse, from my team too. Forget it.”

He spoke lowly, and his voice was gravely. Had it not been for his imploring tone, she probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him. 

She gave a slow nod and wiped her wet hands onto her pants, not sure why he had started talking to her. Did he need to use the bathroom?... He caught her awkward glances. 

“Everybody's gone out. Hoxton wanted me to tell you there’s food in the pantry, although I know that man probably hasn’t actually looked anywhere near those damn cupboards in around a month, maybe more.”

Chains stared into the distance. 

“I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

He jerked his thumb in a direction she couldn’t quite read. Tasha could almost see the questions threatening to spill out of his lips, but she wasn’t in the mood to answer them, so she just gave a quick ‘Thanks’ and wandered up the stairs. The kitchen wasn’t all much, just a few fold out tables and a counter-pantry set. The cupboards contained extensive cutlery and dishes, but the actual ‘food’ department was sparse. There were a few packets of instant ramen, some bread, some half empty bottles of sauces, and an absurd amount of cans. What did these guys eat? 

She decided on a slice of bread, not wanting to take a risk on any of the other ‘foodstuffs’, even if she was hungry. On the floor below, Chains was in his room, and she could hear the sounds of a radio muffled behind his door. Might as well take this time to explore a little, while she wouldn’t run into anybody. 

She wandered along the halls, peeking into doorways to see what the rooms held. Most were empty, save for some boxes that seemed to decorate every corner of the safehouse. In the basement, a strange pink light emanated from a room under the stairs, catching Tash’s attention. The was slightly ajar, and as she stepped closer she could see some boxes and- oh! A chicken stared back at her! She blinked furiously and looked back. No, that wasn’t a chicken, but a person reclining on the couch, wearing a chicken mask. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize there was anybody else here.” She apologized, backing away from the door. Chicken mask gave a nod of understanding and reached into their pocket. 

“It’s okay”

A strange woman’s voice stated from within his pocket. She was even more startled. Did he use that to - talk? She gave him a quick smile, eyebrows still furrowed, and quickly backed away down the hall, as he turned back to where he had been staring at the wall in his reclining position. God, why was everyone here so weird. 

She was more cautious going into a new room this time, giving a gentle knock on the door before she pushed it open. There was no need to fear, however as it was empty of people. It was not, however, empty. Guns of every kind lined the walls, along with various other weapons - some of which Anastasia had never seen the likes of before. She ran her hands over some of the guns, the metal cold under her fingertips. They had so many wildly dangerous guns, knives that glinted wickedly in the light, and - a hammer? She knelt down to pick up the rather ordinary spectacle. Yup - just a normal, ordinary hammer. She tossed it a little in her hands, feeling its weight. 

“That’s my -- favorite.”

A female recording spoke from the doorway. She jumped a little, quickly putting the hammer back. Chicken mask man stood in the doorway, now without the mask. He was dressed casually, with a bomber jacket and jeans, so unlike the rest of the people here. Maybe it was because he hadn’t been on that job with the jewelry store? Anastasia watched the man with apprehension. 

“Do you like to -- hammer?” The man’s recorder spoke. 

“I don’t - I don’t know. I haven’t really ever used more than a gun or a knife before.” 

She answered his strangely worded question. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

He pressed a button on the recorder. 

“Jacket.”

She wasn’t getting used to the weird names around here. Jacket. I guess he doesn’t change into a suit for heists then, she thought, eyeing his bomber. 

“Would you like -- to learn -- some -- fighting?” Jacket watched her earnestly. 

“Yeah, that would be pretty cool, thanks!” She was taken aback by his generous offer. It would be better if she could get a jump start on this whole fighting thing. If she was going to be here to stay, which she intended to, she needed to learn, and fast. 

Jacket handed her a small knife from one of the shelves, and began to show her some simple things. It was strange, learning from a man who spoke no words. He was good though, patient and clearly skilled with the task himself. By the end of the night he had taught her the basics of a few close range melee weapons. They hadn’t touched any of the guns, and for that Tasha was almost glad. They looked intimidating, but she could handle the knives, swords, and baseball bats Jacket handed her one by one. They had sparred a few times, Jacket clearly going easy on her, but she still ended up with a few awkward cuts on her arms. They were barely nicks, but they bled, and both fighters were tired, sweaty, and ready to call it a night. 

“Good job.”

The recorder spoke, and Tasha gave a sweaty smile. She was getting used to the whole recorder thing. At least he was polite, and willing to be around her, instead of being awkward and bursting with questions, or just flat out rude. 

They parted ways from the training room, and Tasha headed back upstairs to Hoxton’s space. It was late night-early morning, so she walked quietly in case Chains was asleep. She hadn’t heard anyone come in during her training though, so she guessed they were all either late night bar hopping or staying somewhere else. Hoxton wasn’t in his bed, but she didn't want to sleep in it not just because he might arrive back in the night, but also because she didn’t really feel welcome sleeping in his bed, after all the conversations they’d had. She didn’t have a sleeping bag or anything, so she borrowed a throw blanket from the foot of Hox’s bed, and used her satchel bag as a pillow. It wasn’t all that uncomfortable, she’d had worse nights, and so she her heavy eyelids droop, and sleep overtake her weary body. 

Crash!

Anastasia jolted from her makeshift bed. Her mind was flashing with warning signals. Bleary eyed and disoriented, she looked around. Right. Hoxtons room. Safehouse. The morning sun was streaming in through the windows, and she could tell it was late morning. Hoxton was passed out in the bed, on top of the covers and still wearing his suit. 

She tucked a small pocket knife from her bag into her palm, just in case the crashing that had awoken her was the sound of intruders, or some other danger she could fight. Every muscle in her body ached from the vigorous exercise she’d had last night as she tiptoed out into the hall. 

Bang!

She could hear cursing coming out of the kitchen now, and she knew it wasn’t anything dangerous, just someone from the crew having a rumble. Tucking the unnecessary pocket knife back into her trouser pockets, she peeked in through the doorway. The man whose name she didn’t know, the one who had mentioned the blood on her face, was standing amongst a pile of upturned chairs and cursing violently. He didn’t see her, so she ducked her head out and turned back down the hall. Weird. 

“Get your first sighting of Wolf’s morning routine, did you?” Hoxton mumbled from the bed as she reentered the room. 

“Yeah. Is that… normal?”

“No, but what’s normal with Wolf?” He was looking at her now, but still flopped belly down on the bed. He reeked of alcohol. 

“Don’t need a bloody alarm clock when you’ve got a madman or two about, I say.” He stopped his face back into the covers and fell silent. 

Tasha took this as her cue to leave, and closed the door behind her. In the common rooms, Dallas sat, eyes glued on a computer that perched on his lap. She sat down on a couch opposite him, not sure what to do. She didn’t want to go bother Jacket again, not if he was as tired as she was after last night. She looked up to notice Dallas was watching her. 

“So?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“So?...” She replied uncertainly. 

“Why is Hoxton towing around a kid? That man’s never had more than a one night stand, and he’s an only child. He’s not telling us anything, and I respect him, so who are you?” 

“Well, my-my name is A-” She cut herself off. “Tasha. My name’s Tasha, and I was an amateur assassin who spotted a guy in need. Saved him from a bullet, kept in contact.” She was shocked at the fluidity of her lying. 

“So why were you at the mall yesterday?” 

“What can I say, a girl needs to shop.”

Dallas looked questioningly at her ragtag clothes, but kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want to start full out interrogating a kid that his teammate clearly trusted - to an extent. Hoxton also hadn’t been the most warm and inviting. Dallas made a mental note to ask Hox how long the girl was going to be sticking around. He’d have to tell Bain, and soon. 

“Is Hox around?” He asked. 

“Hungover.” 

Dallas made a “humph” noise and pushed his laptop onto the sofa. He brought two fingers to his mouth, and let out a shrill whistle.

“HOX?!” He called in the direction of Hoxton’s room. 

“Aye, aye, keep it down will ya.” Hoxton slumped over the banister. He had changed out of his suit and showered, but his hair was still dripping and he had bags under his eyes. “What’d you want?” 

“How long is she staying? For good?” Hoxton blinked at her for a few seconds, brain whirring. “Mind if we take a minute” He nodded his head in the direction of a doorway, descending the stairs, and Dallas gave him a chin up nod before settling back down on the couch. Tasha followed Hoxton into the side room, closing the door behind her. 

“Please. I need this.” She whispered imploringly at him as soon as the door was closed. She couldn’t risk raising her voice, because Dallas was most definitely eavesdropping right about now. 

“No. What about school, and friends, and growing up and crap? No fourteen year old should be in any type of gang except a girl gang.”

“One: Online courses exist. Two: What fucking friends. Three: You were doing crimes at this age. You know that even if you kicked me out I’d still be doing the same thing, but away from here without the prep or the coordinated team. You know I’d be exactly where you were 15 odd years ago.”

He ran a hand through his hair, considering it. He hadn’t thought of that. That she’d still be living dangerously even if he kicked her out. He wasn’t a saint for shutting her out of the haven he was apart of. 

“Fine. But don’t expect me to be babysitting you. You’re in a gang now, if Bain even allows it, and you’ve got to handle yourself.” He held out his hand. They shook hands, and Hoxton glanced down at her arms. 

“How’d you get those? Weren’t there yesterday.” He noticed. 

“Sparring with Jacket.”

“Jacket? You’ve got to be mad to willingly fight with him. He’ll fuck you up good, that’s for sure. He’s given me a markin’ or two far worse than this sucker” He gestured to his bruised jaw. 

“Sorry.” She looked at his purple jaw. 

“At least it tells me you can fight. And you’re going to need to, if you’re staying here. Have you told anyone our cover yet?”

She nodded.

“Let me guess, interrogated by the asshole out there?”

She nodded again. 

“Well I guess we better get you down to the range quick smart before anybody’s testing you” He eyed the welts on her arms. 

“Minus Jacket of course. Something tells me he doesn’t care, though.” He stopped as he saw shadows under the gap in the door. They looked at each other knowing Dallas was listening. 

“So it’s settled then. You saved my life, I let you live here. No debts owed. Capiche?” 

“Capiche.” She followed him back out of the room, not looking at Dallas, who was loitering by the entrance, pretending to be busy. 

“She’s staying.” Hox said to him. 

He nodded in response and meandered back towards his couch. 

“I’ll tell Bain when I’ve got a moment. Heist coming up, maybe tonight. She’ll have to stay behind ‘till we know her skill, though. Sorry, rules are rules.”

She smiled understandingly. Hoxton saluted him, then left the room, Tasha following a few paces behind.


End file.
